


Overlooked

by conniebeauchamp



Category: Casualty (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Scrub-In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 15:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15933746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conniebeauchamp/pseuds/conniebeauchamp
Summary: Alicia Munroe is an overworked, stressed registrar of Holby City Emergency Department who is in desperate need of a holiday. Bea Kinsella is an overworked, stressed F1 with exams next month, no motivation to study for them, and a father who needs more help staying on the wagon than he’s willing to accept or she’s willing to give.When the two of them decide to book a last minute trip to sunny Majorca in the Balearic Islands, neither of them expect to find love beyond a one night stand. And they definitely don’t expect to have to deal with heartbreak, regret and loss.AU to the events of S32 regarding Alicia’s current storyline, marginally AU to Bea’s storyline with regards to her father.





	Overlooked

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Artwork: Overlooked](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15933878) by [jazzywbb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzywbb/pseuds/jazzywbb). 



 

“Doctor Munroe.”

For what feels like the ten millionth time today, Alicia hears her name called by yet another person wanting her attention. Unfortunately, unlike most of the times someone has wanted her, she can’t ignore this one: Ethan Hardy, she can ignore; Connie Beauchamp, she cannot.

Heaving as deep a sigh as she dares whilst simultaneously rubbing a bit of sweat from her brow, Alicia turns around and says, “yes, Mrs Beauchamp?” There’s no smile, no suggestion that she’s happy to have gained the Clinical Lead’s attention -- nothing that she would normally do instinctively.

Due to departmental sickness, holiday, and a generally poor situation with rotas as a hangover from Ethan’s brief stint as Clinical Lead, Holby City Hospital’s Emergency Department has been without at least one doctor -- and sometimes up to three fewer than required -- for the last six weeks. Every single shift -- every single hour of every shift. It’s something that rageinresus would have exploited to the nth degree but, unfortunately, that period of Alicia’s life is over, for better or worse.

After the predicament with her annual leave earlier that year, Alicia had been unable to rebook the time off, at least for the forseeable future. Whilst many a sympathetic Clinical Lead would take this prolonged period of work without a break with a pinch of salt and afford the member of staff a period of off-rota time as part of her normal working week (or month, as doctors’ days off seem to work nowadays: 24 days on, 6 days off), Connie Beauchamp doesn’t seem to believe in pity. _“A situation caused by my temporary replacement is none of my concern, Doctor Munroe_.” Therefore, as the only member of staff without a holiday booked, the short straw has fallen upon Alicia Munroe to work the last thirty days without a single day off.

And she’s _sick_ of it. She’s sick of having to decide whether to sacrifice two hours of sleep just to go back to her nice, warm, _own_ home and bed to relax and fall into slumber, or whether to make do with the uncomfortable but close on-call room just up the corridor. She’s sick of her only sustenance being chocolate bars from the hospital shop or a sneaky taster of whatever Elle’s brought for her lunch that day. She’s frustrated with work and, increasingly, questioning her career choice.

In thirty days, she’s seen her housemate at work twenty three days and at home once. In thirty days, she’s spoken to her parents (individually, after the messy divorce), once, for a grand total of four minutes and three seconds whilst she waited for test results and could actually sit down for once. In thirty days, she’s worn the same set of scrubs three days in a row at least four times, and has practically been able to smell her own trail.

In all, it’s been a traumatic few weeks -- an experience which has dulled her politeness, particularly to Connie Beauchamp, to an absolute minimum.

As she focuses in on Mrs Beauchamp, Alicia swears that she can almost see a veneer of concern cross her Clinical Lead’s face. Surely not, her boss showing that she cares outside of her office? But then she blinks, and the carefully neutral expression is back on Connie’s near perfect face.

“Mrs Johnson’s results are back - it is, of course, your call, but I believe that she would be a prime candidate for our new trauma theatre,” Connie replies crisply, seamlessly handing a piece of paper to Alicia without appearing to move. “If not, I would recommend calling Darwin as soon as possible…”

Blinking once, then twice, Alicia glances over the results and nods. “Er, yeah, trauma theatre sounds good,” she says, hearing in her own voice a note of distractedness. “If you’re free at all, would you mind…?”

A smile slips onto Connie’s lips - and stays. “With pleasure -- would you like to assist?”

Normally, Alicia would jump at an opportunity like this. Today, she simply says, “er, if you’re okay alone, I’ve got a backlog of patients to see. But if you want me…”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Connie replies, waving a hand in the air. “I’ll let you know how he gets on.”

“Thanks,” Alicia murmurs, as Connie’s already turning to head towards her office, likely to change into scrubs.

However, surprisingly for Connie Beauchamp, she turns back to face her registrar, with an extremely penetrating expression on her face. Is she...empathising with Alicia?

“At the end of your shift, I’d like to see you in my office,” she comments, turning and striding away without another word.

On any other day, Alicia would be stewing over every decision she’s made in the last few hours in the attempt to second guess why she’s going into the office -- if for a good or a bad reason, at the very least. On day thirty, she simply shrugs and carries on with her job: if Connie wants to sack her, today, she doesn’t give a fuck.

…

The slam of the staff room door causes Bea to jump slightly, startled at the unexpected arrival into the shared area. It’s only after she’s wiped her eyes that she realises that she fell asleep in the middle of her break, a clear sign of her sheer exhaustion. The ED being short staffed has meant that she’s had to work more hours -- on top of revising for her first load of F1 exams the following day. Studying has taken a backseat to getting real experience, which in turn has meant that sleep has fallen to the very bottom of the agenda of her priorities. Well, perhaps only second bottom to making sure that the house is clean -- her father, on his good days, can make sure of that.

“Bea?” Dylan Keogh says, clearing his throat as he stands close enough to make it clear that he’s engaging in a conversation with her, whilst also far enough away that she doesn’t feel as though she can read into his soul. He’s also looking towards the kitchen area, which Bea can only hope means that he’s planning on making a hot drink.

“Ah, er, yeah, sorry it’s breaktime and I was studying and...yeah,” Bea trails off, setting the dull yet heavy as a doorstop textbook on the coffee table.

“Yes, well, what you choose to do with your break is up to you,” Dylan replies, offhand. “I just wanted to let you know that your patient’s results are in, and that said patient is climbing walls whilst they wait to be let out of this hellhole, in their words.”

 _Shit, shit, shit_ , runs through Bea’s mind: she’d completely forgotten about the patient in Cubicle 6 when she asked if she was alright to go for her break, which is going to get her in _so_ much trouble. She’s practically just had a conversation with Mrs Beauchamp on professionalism - a conversation prompted by a comment from a patient that her hair looks a falsely dyed colour, which is blatantly untrue -- and she doesn’t think that she can face another one. Especially not one this close to her three-quarter assessment of her F1 year. _Especially_ after the ruckus caused at least partially by Ethan and the consultant from upstairs.

She can feel the colour drain from her face as she stands up, and the response from Dylan is shocking.

“Bea,” he says, a hint of something more than careful neutrality in his voice. “It’s fine. Go sort them out, then have a coffee for the rest of your break.” Dylan snorts. “Hell, have two coffees. I’ll cover it with Connie.”

“I, er, thank you,” Bea stumbles over her words, before half running to the door to the ward. In all the months she’s worked here now, she doesn’t think that they’ve had a conversation about anything other than a patient (and her misguided entry into the discussion on his alcoholism, which probably explains the professional conversing). Whilst there’s nothing _personal_ about the exchange that’s just happened, she’s got more than an inkling that Dylan’s annoyed about something in the workplace -- and that something is probably something to do with the shortage of staff, and the resulting long shifts for those misfortunate enough to be in.

“No problem,” Dylan replies, the professionalism gone and instead replaced by a tired weariness. A weariness, or a desire for alcohol? The thought runs through Bea’s head and, for a split second, she hesitates as she presses down on the door handle. Then she remembers what happened last time she meddled in Dylan’s life, and continues her journey out of the office.

Before she’s even managed to reach her patient, Mrs Beauchamp steps into her path, a huge pile of files in her hands.

“Ah, Doctor Kinsella,” Mrs Beauchamp says, without even looking up. “Back from lunch early, I see. What a work ethic.”

“I, er, yeah…?” Bea trails off, lamenting her affirmation and the loss of two entire cups of coffee.

“Good,” is the Clinical Lead’s response. “Sort out the patient in Cubicle 6 please; they seem extremely anxious. Then choose where you’d like to spend the rest of your shift - perhaps the area that you feel weakest on for your exams?”

“Thank you, Mrs Beauchamp,” Bea replies, picking up the piece of paper in Cubicle 6’s tray: her long-abandoned patient’s test results.

“And Doctor Kinsella?” Connie says, turning around and making eye contact with Bea for the first time in the conversation. “If you can come to my office at the end of your shift…” She doesn’t say anything else, or wait for a response, in the usual Connie Beauchamp way.

Heaving a sigh, Bea heads towards her cubicle, a brief glance at the clock restarting the long-running countdown in her mind to her exams…

…

Taking a deep breath, Alicia raises a hand to knock once, then twice, at Connie Beauchamp’s door at the end of her shift. Well, it’s five minutes before the end, but all of the patients have been assigned doctors from the evening shift and, to be frank, she’s sick of the sight of the department.

“Come in,” Connie calls, after a brief pause. As Alicia enters, she continues, “Take a seat, Doctor Munroe.”

Without pausing, Alicia almost launches herself into the visitor seat in front of Connie’s desk, just about resisting the desire to close her eyes and fall asleep, right here and now. Perhaps then Connie would see the impact of her brutal rotas’ shift patterns.

“I’m sure you’re aware, but Mr Johnson’s operation was a success,” Connie begins, and Alicia belatedly recognises the fact that the Clinical Lead is wearing scrubs. Oh yeah. The patient from earlier on today.

“Oh good,” Alicia ventures, a small attempt at a smile sliding onto her face. “Is he up on Darwin now then?”

“He is,” Connie confirms. “Now...about earlier.”

“Earlier?” Alicia feigns confusion.

“You seemed distracted -- or, at least, not as enthusiastic as you usually appear,” Connie clarifies, setting something down on her desk. “I understand that these shifts have been extraordinarily taxing, despite my best efforts to make it less so through agency staff.” A huff indicates to Alicia that, clearly, Connie didn’t get what she wanted from the newest C.E.O.

“I know that you’ve tried to make it easier,” Alicia begins, before abruptly stopping. Yes, she knows Connie has tried, but she’s failed: does that make her any better than Ethan?

 _Yes_ , Alicia amends in her own mind, she is better than Ethan. But that doesn’t mean that, in this moment, she can avoid making comparisons.

“Anyway,” Connie retakes control over the conversation. “I’ve decided that it’s simply impossible for you to continue on like this. It will take a few days - so I will require another five days of work from you - but I’ve worked in a full week off the rota for you. It won’t count as annual leave, simply as the accrued rest days that you have been entitled to over this period.”

Alicia sits up, shocked. “I...you mean I’ve got a week off? Not as holiday?”

Connie smiles, though the movement simply serves to highlight the growing rings under her eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

A slight niggle appears in the back of Alicia’s mind - is Connie giving herself the same period off, as she’s been there even more than Alicia - before she decides that airing it would be futile, and potentially result in her losing the period of time off.

“I...thank you,” Alicia says, “I don’t know what to say. That’s...that’s brilliant.”

“Yes, well, I will require your focus for the rest of your shifts,” Connie continues, a hint of sternness creeping into her tone. “And I can’t promise that your shifts will be any better when you return for at least the month of August. But after that, we’re into the planning period which started when I returned, so things should be tolerable at worst.”

“Thank you so much,” Alicia repeats, a genuine smile lighting up her face. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will indeed,” Connie affirms, “have a nice evening.”

As she drives home, Alicia can’t quite get her thoughts into order about what to do on her period of time off. Should she use it to just sleep? Should she visit her family? Or, shockingly, should she use some of the money she’s made in this intense period of overtime to...treat herself to a holiday?

She’s still thinking about it as she arrives home, the sight of the living room light casting a warm glow over the room a welcome reminder of her roommate’s presence. The days she’s forced herself to come home over the last month has happened, in part, because of the knowledge of another person’s presence in her house. Whilst she’s never exactly needed someone constantly, Alicia can’t help but admit that things have felt much more...settled since Bea moved in, a few weeks previously.

“Hey,” Alicia says, entering the house in the highest spirits potentially since Bea moved in. “Had a good couple of hours without me?”

“Well, if good means eating a full tub of ice cream whilst trying to cram as much for tomorrow as possible, then it’s been great,” Bea replies, groaning a little. “Tell me that the F1 exams are easier than you think.”

“Nope,” Alicia admits, plopping herself down on the sofa and grabbing a chocolate biscuit. “But you’ll realise they weren’t so bad when you get to the F2 exams. And then when you hit the registrar exams, well, that’s when you’re like _shit_.”

Bea sighs. “Anyway, why are you in such a good mood?”

Alicia frowns, or does her best attempt at one. “What do you mean?”

“Come _on_ ,” Bea says, setting her textbook aside. “You’ve been in the pits recently - fairly enough, given your shifts. What gives now?”

Alicia sits forwards, the grin reappearing on her face. “Mrs B’s given me a full week off - as days off, not annual leave. Just got five more shifts to do and then a full week is mine.”

Bea’s reaction isn’t quite what Alicia expects. “YESSSS!” Bea half-screeches, standing up and doing a strange form of dance.

“Are you alright?” Alicia asks, laughing a little as she questions whether Bea’s losing it a little over the exams. “Chill out, Bea.”

“Oh yeah. That was a little extreme,” Bea agrees, joining Alicia in a peal of laughter. “It’s just...I mean, I wasn’t going to say, because of the shitty hours you’ve had...but, Mrs B has given me the same week off! As a reward for my effort, and taking my exams. It’s essentially the exam leave I’m meant to have before, but I haven’t had, but I’m not complaining!”

Alicia snorts. “Connie’s seriously had enough of their shit then, if we’re both off,” she says, half-distractedly. “I wonder if she’s given the entire department the week off, just to screw with those upstairs.”

“I hope she has - that woman’s got _balls_ ,” Bea agrees. “But the question is: what are we going to do with our week off?”

.

Within forty minutes, Alicia’s credit card details have been entered into an online holiday booking site, along with both of their passports’ information, something which included more than a little laughter at both of their passport photos and Bea’s Irish cover, and it’s official.

“Right, in six days’ time, we’re off,” Alicia says, throwing her credit card across the room, aiming unsuccessfully to get it to land on the other sofa.

“I can’t believe it,” Bea replies, laughing. “A whole week abroad?”

“Not just anywhere,” Alicia continues, a wicked smile creeping onto her face. “The place you go to when you don’t have a care in the world, want to get wasted and a tan in the same place. Magaluf.”

“Magaluf won’t know what’s hit it,” Bea adds. “As long as I get there...back to studying it is.”

Alicia closes the laptop, taking a deep breath and smiling, content in the knowledge that, although there’s another 60 hours of work to go, she’s almost in her happy place.

…

It’s hot, almost stiflingly so, as Alicia and Bea disembark the Ryanair plane which got them from Holby to Palma de Mallorca and head into the terminal. Surrounding them are dozens of equally pasty, sun- and sleep-deprived passengers who are equally desperate to get through security and to their final destination -- but Bea’s convinced that none of them are as in need of this mid-summer break away as the pair of Holby ED doctors.

After an intense few weeks of work - and study - they’ve finally got a whole week away from the hospital. A week away from treating and saving patients, as well as dealing with the seemingly limitless drama that accompanies working with such a wide range of people. And Bea, for one, can’t wait for a bit of sunbathing, drinking, and maybe even a bit of no-strings-attached fun.

“So,” Alicia begins, inserting a dramatic pause as she waits for the noise of an aeroplane taking off to subside before continuing, “what’s the first thing you want to do? Jump in the pool fully clothed? Go to the beach? Three tequila shots in a row?”

For potentially the first time in her life, Bea shakes her head and responds, “we need to be sensible.”

Alicia turns to look at her, her expression a cross between perplexed and concerned, and Bea can’t keep a straight face; she bursts out laughing, attracting the attention from most of the fellow Brits nearby.

“Kidding,” Bea clarifies, pushing the strap of her bag further up her shoulder. “Like maybe we should think about going to the supermarket first, just so we’ve got some water for our hangovers in the morning.”

“A valid point,” Alicia affirms.

“But after that, it’s bikinis on, sunloungers locked down, and cocktails ordered,” Bea continues, squinting. “Do we need our passports again now?”

Somehow, they make it through security and to the baggage reclaim carousel without major incident: Alicia laughs herself silly when she realises that the border agents think they’re from the same place, and Bea almost manages to get herself into the departures lounge by following a flight attendant through a door by accident, but for them, these are non-incidents. With just a short delay as they wait for the bus to transfer them to Magaluf, they take three dozen selfies to work out which one is most likely to make the group of doctors and nurses still at work jealous, before posting it to all forms of social media _and_ the Whatsapp group chat.

Not that it’s a record or anything, but Alicia counts it as a personal win that Connie not only reads their post but acknowledges it.

“Bea,” Alicia whispers into her friend’s ear almost an hour after they leave the airport. “Bea, it’s time to wake up -- we’re here!”

With a snort that turns into a grumble, which ends up sounding scarily like a growl, Bea stretches - hitting not only Alicia but an extremely unimpressed woman across the walkway.

“Sorry,” Bea mumbles in the lady’s general direction, before standing up to grab her bag from the overhead luggage rack. “Um, so do we just like go inside now?”

Alicia smiles. “Yeah, just need to check in. It’s been a while since you’ve been away, hasn’t it?” She doesn’t mean anything critical, but she can tell immediately that it was the wrong thing to say to Bea.

“Yeah, it’s been a very long time,” Bea replies, through clenched teeth. However, less than five seconds later, she smiles and jabs Alicia in the side with her elbow. “But, with you being my mentor and all, I’m the junior party here. Means that you get to do everything - and I just watch for next time!”

As they disembark the bus, giving a poorly accented _gracias_ to the impatient, flushed driver, Alicia snorts, readjusting the bag on her shoulder to distribute the weight slightly more evenly.

“I suppose that’s true,” Alicia agrees, striding swiftly across to the hotel’s front entrance. “Though I can tell you, it takes a lot of practice and experience before you nail the flirting to get free stuff as well as I can - and maybe even a few years of observations first. Just a warning.”

Bea laughs. “Babe, I once flirted my way into getting a car for thirty quid.”

“You mean your death trap?” Alicia clarifies. “I don’t think it was worth even that.”

“Fair,” Bea concedes, savouring for a moment the beautiful feeling of the hotel’s air conditioning hitting her face. “But it was advertised at five hundred quid, so I think I got myself a pretty good bargain.”

As they approach the check in desk, they see the attendant on shift: a balding, middle-aged man with ruddy cheeks and a straining waistcoat.

Once again, Bea laughs and, placing a hand on Alicia’s shoulder, murmurs, “You know what, I think you’re right, I need to learn from the best. This one’s all yours to flirt with.”

…

 It’s a little after nine the following morning that the sun finally becomes too much for Alicia’s hungover (potentially still drunk) bloodshot eyes to deal with.

“Urrggh,” she mumbles as she stumbles out of the double bed in the centre of the room towards the still-open blinds covering the window which looks onto the pool. “Bea, we...need to get towels...to go to the pool.”

A noise surprises her, and Alicia turns to look in the vague direction of the bedroom door to see Bea dressed in a back-to-front bikini and huge sunglasses, holding a two litre bottle of water.

“Amen,” Bea agrees, “Might as well be hungover and get a tan.”

“Don’t...talk...so...loud,” Alicia grumbles, running a hand through her hair. “Man, we really did drink a lot, didn’t we?”

“Yep,” Bea agrees, taking a swig of water. “Though if we’re going to the pool...you might want to put some clothes on.”

Her eyes still closed, Alicia’s hand runs down towards her chest and realises, with a sudden shock, that there’s no material there. She’s not wearing any clothes…

With a sudden burst of recollection of the events earlier that morning, Alicia remembers a spot of skinny dipping with some of the guys from their hotel, overwhelming heat upon her (solo) return to her room and an inability to turn the AC on, resulting in a now-poor decision to sleep naked.

Heat flushing to her cheeks, Alicia turns around swiftly and almost vomits from the sudden movement. However, in the balance between being hungover and being naked in front of her friend for the first time and completely unexpectedly, she decides to risk it.

“Right,” Alicia says, her brain freezing as she tries to string enough words together to sound vaguely coherent. “I’ll...get some clothes on! If you want to wait in the living room, I’ll be through in a couple of mins.”

“Sure thing,” Bea agrees, throwing a bottle onto the bed. “There’s some suncream if you need it. I think we only got one bottle at the supermarket before we came, didn’t we?”

“Cheers,” Alicia adds, keeping her back turned to the door, despite her suitcase being right next to it. If only Bea could go now…

“Oh and Alicia?” Bea says, her voice sounding as croaky and sandpaper-y as Alicia’s throat feels. “One word: _wow_.”

Although it’s certainly more awkward a situation than Alicia anticipated on day one of the holiday, that one word makes it all almost feel worth it.

…

Night number two in Magaluf is when things, inevitably, go to shit.

“Bea, can I borrow your earrings?” Alicia calls through from her room, well aware that their reservation is booked for seven minutes’ time and she’s a good fifteen minutes away from being presentable. “And...maybe some aftersun. If you’ve got any spare.”

Alicia can hear her friend’s laugh before she can see her. “Anything you want, you take,” she suggests, a wicked glint in her eye, as she throws her entire suitcase onto Alicia’s bed. “Maybe save me some underwear though.”

“You’re a _babe_ ,” Alicia replies, diving instantly into Bea’s suitcase and taking the appropriate things. “But, Bea, you’ve not unpacked? Don’t tell me you enjoy living out of a suitcase.”

Shrugging against the doorframe, her long legs seemingly endless with a pair of platform heels, Bea says, “it makes me feel like we’re really on holiday. Unpacking, putting stuff in a wardrobe, it just makes it feel...less fun.” Twisting her hair, she adds, “well, I’ve unpacked some things. Toiletries, and a couple of dresses. But, yeah, most of it just stays in the suitcase.”

“Fair enough,” Alicia replies, twisting the earrings into her earlobes at the fastest pace she’s moved since leaving the Emergency Department. “If you want to go and have a drink, I’ll be down soon enough. Promise.”

“Nah,” is Bea’s response, though it comes out slightly different through her lilting accent. “It’s fun watching you try and get ready in...oh, we’re down to six minutes now. I believe in you, Doc. You can do it!”

Narrowing her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching, Alicia moves across and slams her bedroom door shut, still able to hear Bea’s laugh from just behind the thin wooden structure.

.

It doesn’t take long after Bea and Alicia arrive downstairs for one of them to recognise one of the many fellow Brits in the resort. Having both been renowned during the early years of medical school for being the life and soul of the party - along with the decision to come to Magaluf of all places - it’s almost a given that they’re going to know at least a few of the people here.

“Oh my god.” A posh-sounding, definitely southern voice interrupts Alicia and Bea’s conversation over cocktail choices, and opens a long-forgotten about door in the back of Alicia’s mind. “Doctor Alicia Munroe, is that really you?”

Alicia turns around and squeals. “Doctor Jamie Fryatt! I can’t believe that’s you!” Reaching her arms out, she wraps them tightly around the tall, blond doctor’s shoulders and turns her back completely on Bea.

For more than a minute, Alicia and Jamie talk non-stop, updating each other on the most essential aspects of their careers and lives outside of what can be seen on social media sites. It’s only then that Alicia turns around and remembers, embarrassingly, that she’s with her friend.

“Um, this is Bea, an F1 in my department, and my housemate,” Alicia makes the introduction, relieved to see Bea smile at both herself and Jamie. Not pissed off then, thankfully. “Bea, this is Jamie. We went to med school together and we both had our first rotation in paeds.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jamie says, with a smile, as he reaches across the table to shake Bea’s hand. “Must be a barrel of laughs, living with Alicia. She always did know how to throw a good party.”

Almost subconsciously, Alicia’s hand slips onto Jamie’s shoulder, her arm and elbow at an awkward, but not uncomfortable angle. “Now come on, Jamie, that was years ago,” she teases, aware somewhere in the back of her mind that this is uncontrollably flirtatious and she can’t quite remember if he has a girlfriend or not. “I’m _much_ tamer nowadays.”

He snorts and once again, it feels as if Alicia loses her grip on the situation and Bea fades away into the distance. It’s only for a moment, but her focus is Jamie, though whether that’s simply because they haven’t seen each other for four years or because of something else, she doesn’t quite know.

A pointless conversation continues for a further five minutes, with Bea’s interjections increasingly infrequent and Alicia’s about to send Jamie away (though with a promise of seeing each other again) when he says, “hey, I’ve got an idea. My friend’s finally ready: should we maybe have dinner together as a group?”

Alicia’s heart immediately says yes but, in this situation, it isn’t just her. Looking up to make eye contact with Bea, she can sense that her friend is opposed to this idea, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Bea?” Alicia asks, hating herself for putting this on her friend. If Bea says no, then it makes her seem the party-killer; if she says yes, she gets lumbered with being the only one without connections at the table.

But Alicia wants this, and the selfish part of Alicia is determined to get it.

“Um, yeah, sure, why not?” Bea replies, the small smile on her lips swiftly disappearing.

“Great!” Jamie proclaims, setting his superfluous jacket down on the back of the chair adjacent to Alicia’s. “I’ll just go and get Harry, poor sod’ll be looking for me near the sunloungers. See you shortly, ladies.”

As soon as Jamie’s gone, Alicia pulls a face at Bea, trying to assess how pissed off her friend is. “Sorry, Bea. I just...it’s been a long time.”

“No, I get it,” Bea says, the fixed smile only partially returning. “We’re on holiday, it’s nice to see people we know - we’ve got loads more nights!”

“Thank you,” Alicia says, reaching out and placing her hand on top of Bea’s and giving it a small squeeze. “Promise that tomorrow, it’s just us.”

“So what’s the deal with him?” Sounding at least a little curious, Bea sounds almost as if she’s come around to the situation.

“Jamie? Um, we had an on/off thing at med school. He’s a really, really nice guy, proper down to earth. I just...wasn’t ready for that,” Alicia explains, wishing that she had a drink to cool herself down a little. “We lost touch after the paeds rotation, and then I moved down to Holby and you know the rest…”

“But you still like him?” Bea clarifies.

Alicia shrugs, and she knows that that simple movement tells Bea everything she wants to know. “I don’t know. I liked him. I _like_ him, at least as a person. As a friend. But we’re both different now. I don’t know if I want any guy right now.”

There’s a beat of silence before Bea finally responds, “well, I’m excited to meet him properly anyway.” As she waves the waiter over, she adds, “because I’m _dying_ to get some proper goss on you from your med school days…”

Groaning, Alicia smiles and feels a tingle through their still-connected skin. Strange. “I can guarantee, you’ll have a full arsenal of stories from just first term of first year. Just don’t ask about the pink elephant…”

…

An hour after dinner, Bea’s bored. To be fair, she was bored from just before their food arrived, though her friend hasn’t noticed that.

Alicia hasn’t noticed a lot since Jamie returned, his friend Harry in tow.

Doing her best to be a supportive friend, Bea dutifully talks to Harry whilst Jamie and Alicia have a full-on catch up, but there isn’t much to say: he’s a dermatologist who lacks tact to the extreme, and once he suggests that she has a full-body skin peel to rejuvenate her complexion, the conversation pretty much ends.

She manages to get in on the Jamie-Alicia conversation twice: once when it becomes apparent that neither Bea nor Harry are talking, and secondly when Bea downs her class of sex on the beach and straight out interrupts the conversation on the other side of the table with a question about Alicia in med school. That facet of talk lasts a solid four minutes before Bea’s shunted out again from in-jokes and conversations about people via nicknames which make no logical sense.

So, after dinner, when they move towards the main bar area, Bea decides to disentangle herself from the particularly pointless group, and instead looks for someone to flirt with. Her work and study schedule recently has meant that she’s had limited opportunity to go out and get with anyone, and a part of her is starting to doubt that she’s going to be able to get _anyone_ this evening.

She needn’t worry, however; whilst at the bar, she spots at least three girls she’d like to get to know better, and one even buys her a drink without even stopping to ask if she’s interested.

Within ten minutes, Bea and her new-found date, Leslie, are seated at a tiny table in the bar’s courtyard, their chairs almost touching. Leslie’s a big banker woman from London but, as every Brit seems to, has connections in Ireland. She’s impressed by Bea’s work and, during a particularly gruesome story about one of Bea’s cases, grips the redhead’s upper thigh for the suspense.

Bea doesn’t mind. In fact, she _likes_. She likes a lot. Leslie’s the sort of woman she usually goes for - charming, witty and completely aware of who she is and what she wants - but usually can’t get in the cheap, shitty bars that her budget usually stretches to.

Though, in the back of her mind, she’s very much aware that this is a holiday romance (if it even reaches that far), and that it’s at least a little out of spite. Sure, she might have met Leslie anyway this evening, if it had just been Alicia and Bea. Alicia might have seen Jamie after dinner, when they made the decision to find someone they liked, and Bea might have found Leslie. But, in the way that things actually end up going, she came to this bar to find someone to make her feel special, even if only for a moment, whilst Alicia chose to stay with someone she used to like.

“Are you okay?” Leslie asks, a confused expression on her face. It’s only then that Bea realises that she’s staring into the distance - and that Leslie’s said something which required a response.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” Bea replies, smiling as she turns her attention back to Leslie. “Just got a bit distracted.”

“So who are you here with?” Leslie changes the topic of conversation. “And why would _anyone_ let someone as lovely as you spend the evening apart?”

“My housemate...and mentor slash boss...which is actually better than you might think,” Bea explains. “We get on well, but she saw someone she used to know and I felt a bit, I’m not sure, left out? So I thought, it’s time for me to have some fun!”

“Interesting,” Leslie replies, her tone thoughtful. “Are you...together?” It’s clear that she’s seeing whether she is going to be the other woman in this scenario, and Bea snorts.

“With Alicia? Nah.”

Leslie smiles. “Whilst that’s good news for me...Why not?”

Bea shrugs slightly. “I mean, for starters, she’s straight,” she explains, ignoring the suggestion in the back of her mind that, maybe, Alicia isn’t as heterosexual as she appears. “And yeah, like, whilst I could potentially see myself liking her, I can’t let myself because it would make things too awkward, and then one of us would end up leaving.” She snorts, taking another large sip of her drink. “Plus, I don’t think I’m exactly the settling down sort. I’m much more of a fan of a variety pack of crisps than one flavour.”

Leslie laughs. “I know I should be offended that you’ve just compared me to crisps, but screw it. I much prefer a variety pack too.”

“Perfect,” Bea comments, lifting an eyebrow in what she hopes is a suggestive manner. “So how about we stop talking about other people, and you tell me more about yourself?”

However, before Leslie can tell Bea anything - or even suggest a refill on their drinks - a shadow appears over them. Bea looks up to see an irritated looking Alicia standing over her, hands on her hips.

“Alicia, hey,” Bea says cautiously. “What’s up?”

“Where did you go?” Alicia demands, completely ignoring Leslie. “One minute you were there, then you just disappeared!”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Bea calmly says, “you seemed preoccupied with Jamie, so I thought that I’d go and find someone to have a chat with, when I met the lovely Leslie.”

Alicia gives Leslie a cursory glance, before turning her attention back to Bea. “Well, can you come and let me into the flat please? I left my keys in my room when I was getting ready.” Another pointed glance at Leslie, before shooting Bea a firm stare, “and I’d really like to get some sleep tonight.”

Taking a deep breath, Bea smiles and nods. “Sure thing,” she directs towards Alicia, before looking at Leslie, “I’ll just be a few minutes - see you soon.”

…

Admittedly, it takes Alicia a little longer than it should to notice that her friend has abandoned her. Although she doesn’t feel anything more than a platonic love for her university friend, it’s nice to feel the centre of attention for once in a while, and that leaves her suddenly desperate to retain Jamie’s intrigue. Nothing will happen between them, but it’s nice to know that, if she flirts, he still wants her.

It’s also to fill a void, one that she’s felt for a while now and yet hasn’t wanted to acknowledge. She’s lonely; she misses having the attention of others around her. It’s felt different since Bea moved in, but in a way that she’s never felt before: they’re similar feelings to how she felt about Jamie, all those years ago, but that’s ridiculous. Surely it’s ridiculous?

However, once she’s noticed that Bea’s gone, she can’t unnotice it. It taints everything, from the wonderful conversations she’s having to the suddenly bitter taste of her cocktail. She came on holiday with Bea, and she’s gone.

In her friend’s defence, she didn’t make her feel the most welcome. She could have pushed Jamie away, or included him in _their_ conversations, rather than the other way around. Alicia’s guilty of being a poor friend in this situation: guilty and upset that she didn’t put Bea first.

But, in her slightly more than tipsy state, her brain isn’t quite telling itself that. It’s producing the hallucination that, really, this night has gone to shit because of Bea Kinsella’s insatiable need to get someone bedded -- someone who isn’t her.

The last part of her thought surprises Alicia, and she spills half of her drink down herself. Although it’s lingered in the back of her mind, it’s never been put into words before, never been anything more than a feeling filling a void somewhere in the deepest, darkest parts of her thoughts. It doesn’t make any sense...she doesn’t like Bea, doesn’t like girls, does she?

Though, even as she thinks this, another part of her brain is questioning it. Reminding her of the times that she kissed a girl “because she was drunk”, of when she thought that a girl was cute and even cuter than whichever guy she was seeing at the time. Of the fact that she’s always questioned the notion of someone being completely gay or completely straight.

Shaking her head rapidly, Alicia blinks and tries to push the idea out of her head. She’s just had too much to drink, that’s all, and she’s a bit pissed off at her friend, no matter how irrational that anger may be. Bea’s her _friend_ , nothing more, nothing less.

But, in that case, why can’t she get the idea of Bea kissing someone else out of her mind?

“Um, whoops,” Alicia says belatedly, looking down at her now-ruined dress. “I should probably get changed…and I might just go to bed, to be honest. The sun’s done me in today.” She smiles a little at Jamie, who stretches his back out and yawns.

“You’re right – we’re not young like we used to be!” Jamie replies, standing up. “It was lovely to see you again though, Leesh. Obviously, we’ve both got our own groups and stuff…but if you fancy doing something at all whilst we’re both here, just send me a message. No pressure or anything.”

“Sounds great,” Alicia replies, sounding fake even to her own ears. Or maybe she’s just too focused on Bea. “See you later, Jamie – nice to meet you, Harry.”

“You too,” Harry replies, sounding bored.

“Do you want me to walk you back to your room?” Jamie suggests, taking his hands out of his pockets. “It’s pretty dark.”

Feeling around in her pockets, Alicia swears in her head. “No, I left my key in my room - I’ll get my roommate’s and get her to walk up with me. Thanks though, Jamie. See you later!”

She walks away from the boys as fast as she can, barely paying attention to the sticky wet mess on the front of her dress as she looks for Bea. Where is she? Why couldn’t they have just stayed together, then they’d be drunk and off finding people they want to sleep with _together_ \- and none of this bullshit that she’s currently conjuring up would have happened?

As soon as she spots Bea with a gorgeous brunette outside the bar, her heartrate increases and fury erupts from a volcano inside of her, and she knows that it isn’t bullshit. For whatever reason, somehow, sometime, she caught feelings for Bea and it’s going to drive her insane.

With this fury in her mind - at both Bea and herself - she storms across to Bea and hovers over her.

They have a brief conversation, in which she looks at the woman once and thinks of how much she wants to _be_ her, before Alicia persuades Bea to head upstairs with her.

They head up in stony silence, the tension almost visible and able to be cut by a knife, as Alicia works out what to do, what to say. What can she say: how furious _should_ she be, how angry does she have the right to be...when she was the one who excluded Bea in the first place?

All she can think of is how much easier life would be if she hadn’t suddenly realised, after four cocktails and too much sun, that she might like Bea Kinsella as more than just a friend.

As Bea unlocks the door, Alicia storms through, pushing her roommate off balance.

“Hey,” Bea comments, her tone pissed. Clearly, the redhead hasn’t been impressed. “What was that for?”

Unable to keep it in any longer, Alicia spins around, eyes blazing, hands on hips, and says, “What was what? You looking like you were about to climb into that woman’s pants in the bar? You disappearing without telling me, just so you could get off with someone?”

Bea’s eyes take on a dangerous glint, and it’s only then that Alicia realises just how blue her eyes are. Glistening aqua, they could be the sky, no matter what time of day.

“Are you having a laugh right now?” Bea retorts, almost a laugh at the end of her reply. “ _You_ ignored _me_ so that you could flirt with Mr Posh from your training. You didn’t even notice that I’d gone until you wanted me to let you in the flat. So don’t talk to me about wanting attention, Alicia.”

Taking a deep breath, Alicia can’t stop herself from replying, “All you do anything for is attention, Bea! You toss your hair and bat your eyelids and get anyone you want, just so that you can feel loved or something! I don’t know what it is.”

Bea takes one step forward, then another, until they’re less than a metre apart. “Alicia, what’s your problem?” She sounds confused more than anything else, and it brings out something in her face that Alicia hasn’t seen before.

 _Think something up, think something up_ , Alicia says desperately to herself, determined not to say anything about anything.

“I was _jealous_ , okay!” She blurts out, before immediately freezing.

 _Shit_.

Bea looks stunned. “What?”

She’s gone here, she might as well finish.

Taking a deep breath, Alicia almost roars, “I was jealous! I saw you with that woman and I thought, shit, that could be me! But it isn’t. And it won’t be.”

This time, Bea looks completely and utterly perplexed. “Alicia, I don’t get it.” Then, an angry expression appears on her face. “Are you actually _mocking_ me for not being straight right now?”

“Why the fuck would you think that?” Alicia exclaims, raising her hands in the air. “You know what, forget it. This was a mistake. I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

Rolling her eyes, Bea’s jaw sets, creating a positively murderous expression on her face. “You spend the _whole evening_ flirting with a guy on _our_ holiday from work and completely ignore me. I go to try and actually have a decent time on my holiday, and you take personal offence that I don’t want to hang around you all of the damn time. _Then_ you decide to try and fuck with my emotions and feelings and tell me that you like me when we both know that you’ve slept with half of the doctors in the E.D - and probably half of the doctors in the country!”

She means to go forwards to slap Bea, she really does. But some twisted part of Alicia’s brain decides that that isn’t what she really wants to do -- so she doesn’t.

Instead, her lips make the first move and smash against Bea’s. It isn’t elegant or refined or careful, as a first kiss usually is, it’s passionate, messy and insanely tantalising. All she can feel, see, taste, smell is Bea, a curious combination of suncream and orange juice and musk and the smell of _home_ , no matter how porous and turbulent that term may be.

At first, it’s just her kissing Bea but after just a moment, she’s kissing Alicia back, the heat of their argument fuelling the intensity of their contact. It’s indescribable, lasting both a few seconds and an eternity.

Until, somehow, the wrong yet rational part of Alicia’s brain kicks into action and questions why she’s kissing Bea when what she set out to do was slap her. She jumps backwards, breaking the contact briskly, and feeling the sudden wave of ice-cold air surround her flushed cheeks.

The anger rises again, no matter how irrational it may be, and Alicia swallows once, then twice, but it still won’t go away.

“That was a mistake,” she finally manages to say. “I hate you and your thoughts and your _fucking judgement_ \- because who gives a fuck if I’ve slept with people?”

The perplexed expression on Bea’s face fades into a strange combination of loathing and pity - a painful strike to Alicia’s heart. But Bea simply says, “that’s fine, Alicia. I’m glad that we’ve managed to get this cleared up,” her tone deathly cold. “I’m going back downstairs now. I wouldn’t want to _judge_ you for anything.”

As she takes a step towards the door, Alicia blurts out, “As soon as we get home, I want you to move out. This friendship is over.”

Without even turning around, Bea simply says, “I had no plans to stay with you, don’t worry.”

…

The following three days pass with absolutely no contact between Alicia and Bea whatsoever. When Bea returns to the flat from Leslie’s late the following morning to gather a selection of clothes and the rest of her money, Alicia’s thankfully out at some unknown location. When Alicia heads down for a dinner with Jamie, Bea and her newfound holiday romance are nowhere to be found.

Alicia stays at Jamie’s, trying to convince her wandering mind that he’s the person she wants, that he’s the person she’s always wanted, and it’s...lovely. It’s everything that she thought it would be: fun, strangely intellectual, and warming. It makes her feel special, in a way that she hasn’t since before Ethan went off the deep end.

Bea likes Leslie - she likes her a lot. Will anything happen after this holiday, and certainly off the holiday without alcohol? Unlikely: they’re both in it for the ‘no-strings-attached’ angle discussed almost immediately on that first night. But Leslie buys her drinks and food (which Bea tries, in vain, to reciprocate) and knows more about how to please a woman than even Bea, which is more than a little appreciated.

All in all, they end up paying for a flat that is scarcely used for the majority of the holiday - although neither of them could have anticipated the holiday turning out the way it has.

Taking a deep breath, Bea enters the flat late on the final evening, the refreshing feeling of air conditioned air passing over her face and making her feel much less drowsy. The only issue with Leslie on this holiday in the middle of summer on an island in the Balearics has been her seemingly constant ability to be cold, even in direct sunlight.

She’s surprised to see Alicia sitting there, alone, a large glass of wine in her hands. She looks drained, is the first thought that pops into Bea’s head, though she resists saying anything. It isn’t worth starting another fight - especially when they’ve got a shift together in a couple of days, and Alicia’s still her official mentor.

“Hey,” Bea says cautiously, Alicia’s head spinning around at the sudden noise. “I’m just here to sort my stuff out before we leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alicia replies, her voice barely audible. “No worries.”

They’re being perfectly cordial, almost as if they’re strangers, and it feels strange. Even in those first days of Bea working in the Emergency Department, they had an easy way into friendly chitchat and discussions which almost immediately became less about work and more about who they were as people.

Standing in silence for a moment, Bea decides to give up on waiting for inspiration to strike regarding starting a conversation proper and instead starts to head towards her room. The faster she gets packed, the faster she can reach a decision on whether she’s going to spend a just little more time with Leslie in her flat, or whether she’ll actually be able to stay the night over there.

However, before she can cross the threshold into her bedroom, Alicia speaks.

“Bea...after what we both said, I don’t know if we can be friends...but can we at least be neutral?”

Taking three or four deep breaths to calm herself down and clear her head before replying, Bea replies without turning around. “Well we work together, so that’s probably wise,” she says, her tone as neutral as her words. “I don’t think we can be friends, no. But I think that we’re both professional and we’re able to work together. At least, I think we can.”

“No, no, I agree,” Alicia says, almost too quickly. “We’re definitely able to work together. I’m glad you agree.”

“Right, okay,” Bea says, rolling her eyes. “So, well, I’m going to pack and then I’m going out. I’ll see you tomorrow for the transfer, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Alicia comments, her tone sounding almost empty.

Neither of them say goodbye, or end the conversation in any meaningful way, which makes it more awkward in many regards.

As she shuts the bedroom door behind her, Bea rests her back against it, tilting her head as far back as possible and closing her eyes as she does so. Her fingers ball into fists which she forces to hang by her sides, to prevent herself punching anyone or anything. This isn’t what she expected a girls’ holiday to Magaluf to turn out like. This isn’t what she ever expected her friendship with Alicia to turn out like - or certainly for it to end this way, so soon after it started.

What happened exactly, she’s not exactly sure. She was mad and didn’t react properly, that’s fair enough and probably more than slightly accurate to say. But Alicia’s reaction was disproportionate to what happened. And then the kiss…

For the last three days, she’s done everything to push that kiss out of her head. If she let it linger, she’d dwell on it for too long, trying to work out the meaning of every single second, every pressure point, every decision Alicia made. If she remembered that Alicia kissed _her_ , not the other way around, she’d not be able to move beyond it. She’d spend every waking moment dissecting the meaning of it until she drove herself mad and reached the stage that she couldn’t move on.

But this way, practically pretending that nothing happened beyond a slightly dramatic fight, it’s easier. She can remove any connotations of Alicia’s words that might have something to do with jealousy - though why Alicia would be jealous of her spending time with Leslie still remains a complete and utter mystery to Bea. Despite the kiss (and the precluding conversation where Alicia said something about feelings, Jamie and Bea in the same sentence), Bea’s convinced that it was just a mistake on her friend’s - or former friend’s - part. Tiredness combined with alcohol and sun rarely results in a happy outcome, after all.

So, with a heavy heart and a deliberately vacant mind, Bea steps away from the door and towards her suitcase, prepared to throw the last few things into it. The faster she does that, the faster she can get out of this carefully neutral, imperfectly painful flat that this holiday home now represents, and the faster she can get back to someone with whom she knows exactly where she stands.

.

As soon as Bea’s door is shut, Alicia’s attention turns to it. From the absence of light, she can see where Bea’s standing and, as expected, her former friend (if former is the way it’s got to be) is behind the door. Probably resting her head against it, her fingers curled to form strangely tiny fists for someone with such long fingers.

It’s strange, being this close to someone who’s so emotionally distant. They both said things they regret, both created an atmosphere which is regrettable at best...and Alicia regrets everything she said. She regrets everything she did, too, because that kiss was the worst decision she could have made. It was a moment of weakness - a strange form of weakness, one which only exists around Bea - which doesn’t make sense, doesn’t fit into the otherwise normal and coherent narrative that is her life.

It doesn’t fit with anything that she can think of really, because the rest of the week she’s been infatuated with Jamie. She hasn’t thought about Bea once, except briefly whenever she steps into the flat for more clothes or contraception, and even that’s been a fleeting overview. Whilst she doesn’t see a future with Jamie, see him as anything else but something to temporarily heal a semi-broken, semi-healed heart, he’s a safe harbour for her. He’s someone who’s known her since the old days, who can see how much she’s changed, who accepts her for who she is, regardless of the flaws.

He’s a safe harbour - but Bea’s home. Literally.

The thought hits her like a tonne of bricks. It’s something that she’s thought many times before now: her home in Holby is inextricably linked to Bea now. At first, she thought it was simply the fact that she’s _such a good housemate_ \- but, clearly, it’s more than that.

Snorting, Alicia takes a huge sip of her drink. Of course she’d be the fucking person who gets a female roommate and _then_ experiences a sexual awakening. Or at least experiences one theoretically.

It’s strange, she thinks as she digs her phone out and starts to scroll through the photos of the week, how she can change so suddenly. Perhaps it’s less sudden than she’s just realised it, and now can’t stop. But how can she like Jamie - as more than just a friend - and like Bea at the same time? Surely that’s not even possible?

Shaking her head, Alicia exits the photos app on her phone and sets it aside, pushing all thoughts of Jamie and Bea out of her mind. She said goodbye to Jamie earlier, having promised to arrange a meetup at some point in the future, though she’s convinced that they both know that it won’t happen. This week was a strange reprisal of something that ended a long time ago, an encore of what they could have been if she had been different back then, if she had acknowledged that it’s okay to be intelligent and to show it.

But that isn’t the point for now. For now, she’s going to push all thoughts of romance or like or feelings out of her mind and simply drink the rest of this bottle of wine.

As she pours herself another glass of wine, Alicia wishes she’d made it a year of no romance, rather than just no men.

…

They don’t sit together on the coach, taking advantage of the fact that it’s such an early morning flight that there are hardly any other passengers on the coach. They check bags in together, though there’s hardly an unnecessary word spoken. If anyone asks, it’s because it’s seven thirty in the morning after a late one the night before (for Bea, anyway) and neither of them have even smelled a caffeine source, let alone consumed any.

Because they forgot to check in online, they’re not sitting together, though the plane’s half empty so it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Bea orders an extra large black coffee and delves into the remaining chunk of her Western novel, trying her damndest to focus on the words on the page and yet every two seconds looking up to stare at the back of the blonde head two rows in front. Alicia’s listening to music, some sappy love song (everything seems to be about love, it seems) with the singer whining about forgotten love and painful memories.

They stand near to one another at the baggage claimage carousel, close enough that should someone see them they could claim that they were together, far enough apart that they don’t have to find a neutral, non-controversial subject for them to pretend to be interested in. Amazing, Bea thinks, how so much change in the space of such a few, short days.

“Right, well, that’s it then,” Alicia says with a forced smile as she turns towards the redhead to her left. “Can certainly say that it was an interesting holiday,” she adds, closing her eyes for more than a second too long afterwards, to Bea’s semi-interested surprise.

“Indeed.” Bea echoes the forced smile, tapping her fingers against her leg nervously. “Um, so I’ve got to go and get my car from my Dad’s but then I’ll be back...be gone by the morning.”

“No rush!” Alicia says, almost too fast. Taking a breath, she continues, “I mean...I’ve got to go in and see Mrs B about something anyway. Then I’m having dinner with Ethan to talk about some stuff, it’s not very interesting. Anyway, I just mean that I won’t be back till late, and then I’m on an early tomorrow, so...yeah...tomorrow night’s fine.”

A slightly bemused expression on her face, Bea nods slightly, adding, “great, well, see you the day after,” before walking off in the direction of the airport exit.

Things could have been so different, she thinks bitterly, if only they hadn’t seen that Jamie dude. Or perhaps if they hadn’t gone on holiday at all. Ruining the best things in life seems to be a fundamentally destructive habit she and Alicia share.

…

Soul searching is a strange term for essentially assessing whether your entire life has been a lie, or whether it’s okay for things to change suddenly, Alicia thinks with a bitter edge. Does it matter that she’s never been with a woman to define herself as bisexual or, without that, is she simply postulating as something she isn’t?

Shaking her head furiously, Alicia forces that idea out of her head. From what she knows about this - and from what she’s read on the deep, dark hole that could be the world wide web - there isn’t anything wrong with coming out. There’s no shame in identifying feelings in your mid-twenties, from changing who you are. There should be no shame, anyway: it’s what she’s told dozens, if not more, of patients who have been in this predicament.

She just never knew how hard it was to follow her own advice before this.

She’s bisexual. Alicia Munroe, bisexual. It feels more of a relief to say that in her head now, to be able to define what she is, to put a term to the conglomerate of shifting feelings and emotions which have always been lurking within her. Just, before, they were underneath the surface, invisible to the naked eye. Whereas, now, she’s aware of them, and more than that, she wants to identify them. She wants to make them part of her personality, part of her identity.

If she ends up with a man, that’s fine. If she ends up with a woman - and she has to find a woman who actually believes that she likes women, it seems - then that’s also fine. She doesn’t have to apologise to herself for who she is - and she certainly won’t be apologising to anyone else.

However, for the first time, she feels true empathy for her father, and what he went through. Sure, she’s mended her relationship with him, proclaimed to understand what he meant and why he did what he did...but now she does. Or, at least she understands a little more. Now, she at least vaguely understands how jarring it is to move from one label, one category, to another. It’s difficult, particularly when you don’t want to undermine the meaning of all of the memories in that original label -- but he did it. And she can, too.

“Alicia Munroe,” she says quietly, clearing her throat. “Bisexual.”

“Alicia Munroe, bisexual,” she repeats, a little louder and a little more quickly.

“I am Alicia Munroe, a registrar in the Emergency Department at Holby City Hospital, and I’m bisexual.”

“And it doesn’t change who I am. Not really.”

Except in one major way: now, she _truly_ understands who she is. Now, she can introspectively look at herself and understand what it means to be Alicia Munroe.

Or at least she can do so a little better than she could before.

…

Flopping herself down into the battered, brown leather sofa that’s been a habitual resident of the corner of her Dad’s house since they moved here, ten years ago, Bea closes her eyes and tries to make herself think about nothing. For the first time since Magaluf, she wants to think about nothing at all. Nothing to do with Holby City Hospital or its specialist registrar, nothing to do with Magaluf or misplaced and misunderstood kisses. Just nothing; the simple times.

Hell, she’d even take the days when she was worried to leave the house to go further than the corner shop for fear that, upon her return, she’d be faced with a drunk father who had once again broken his most solemn promise of sobriety to the only person still in his life.

Now, her father is the least of her problems. Sober for almost three months now, his meetings have replaced her and his need to get a new medal for being sober has replaced the false promises he used to make her. She can look at Dougie Kinsella and see someone who has replaced one addiction for one that commemorates the death of the former, and that fills her with pride. It just shames her that, whilst her father has improved his life, she has not.

Work is stable, true. But the rest of her life - friendships and romances alike - is a mess. And that could be her fault, in part. She grew too reliant on one person, and failed to see what could happen if that person let her down.

There’s a puzzle in there, too, but it’s one that she isn’t willing to pursue today. How did Alicia know that she felt something for her, in order to exploit it? How did she know that kissing Bea would be the cataclysm which either propelled them to new heights or, as it ultimately did, destroy their entire foundation?

As far as she can remember, she didn’t do anything that a friend wouldn’t. She never overstepped her boundaries, even when she started to think that the feelings she felt were more than just what a _friend_ would. Everything was painstakingly separated into friendship and _other_ , and she was okay with that. It was just a crush, that was clear. As soon as work had died down and she could go out and sleep with some girls, that would be it, they’d be friends again.

But that didn’t happen. That hasn’t happened.

She doesn’t know if it’s because Alicia kissed her or because Leslie wasn’t quite exactly what she needed at that point (though if Leslie wasn’t, she isn’t sure who would be), but it didn’t fill the chasm in her chest. It didn’t replace the whispered promise of what _could be_ for her and Alicia, because that kiss was everything that she had ever wanted. And, in truth, it was pretty terrible, a pair of semi-drunk, angry girls who didn’t quite know what was going to happen, only that something _was_.

“Urgh,” she half-screams, pressing a pillow into her face. _Why does everything have to be so complicated_?

“What’s the matter, love?” Surprisingly - she forgets, still, that her father’s sober - she’s been heard by her home’s other occupant. Here, however, it isn’t Alicia.

Pulling the pillow off her face reluctantly, Bea looks up at her father and shrugs. “Why does everything have to be so complicated, Dad?”

“I don’t know, love,” her father replies, taking a seat at the other end of the sofa. “Tell me what’s up.”

Sitting up slowly, Bea wraps her arms around her knees, pulling her legs in close to her body. “It all just went so _wrong_ , Dad. Like, everything was great, we were good friends, and then...I didn’t speak to her about an issue, and then she got really jealous of me spending time with other people? It just didn’t make sense.”

Her father frowns, though Bea knows that’s simply his way of processing. “Are you sure she doesn’t like you?”

Laughing, Bea shakes her head, “when she was drunk, she said she did, but I don’t believe her. It just seems too...neat, too coincidental. And I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“True,” he acknowledges, “but I think you’ve got to be open to the idea that, maybe, she does mean it. That brings a whole load of other issues, but if you want to at least be friends with her again, that’s something you’ve got to consider.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Bea sighs, looking up at her Dad. “Since when did you get so wise?”

“Since I stopped the boozing,” he says proudly. “Three months, four days and seven hours, I’ll have you know.”

“I know,” Bea replies, a smile forming on her lips. “Proud of you, Dad.”

“I’m even more proud of you, kiddo.”

…

They work similar shifts for the next two days, Bea starting and finishing a little earlier than Alicia due to the shift patterns of other more senior doctors. Thankfully - for both personal and professional reasons - they’re in separate sections of the department, with Bea in cubicles and Alicia taking the lead in resus. Alicia’s fairly certain that this is just Mrs Beauchamp’s clever rota-ing to ensure that they don’t spend their entire shift recounting tales of overindulgent drinking and reckless sunbathing to their colleagues all shift; though, if she paid any attention at all, she’d probably notice the slightly concerning complete and utter lack of holiday discussion.

When asked about her relaxing holiday, Alicia simply smiles, nods and says, “it was lovely, thanks,” before moving the conversation back onto her latest patient. When Bea’s asked, she makes a few quips about _how great it was_ , suggesting then to whoever asks that perhaps they should go on holiday next time, all the time knowing that she’s never going to take another holiday with someone from work again.

However, when she sees Bea’s red bun bobbing along at the top of her head in the distance, Alicia knows that she has to speak to her. She misses her friend - and she needs to apologise, properly. Dependent on the situation and circumstances in which she does so, perhaps she’ll even tell Bea how she feels. Maybe not though. Maybe that’s a bit _too_ risky.

“Doctor Munroe?” Behind her, Alicia can hear Connie’s voice and she ends the vigil of cubicles. “Your patient’s results are back... _very_ interesting.”

In the back of her mind, Alicia knows the only reason that Connie is looking at other doctors’ results at the moment is for whether or not she can get that patient into the trauma theatre, either through her own intervention or someone else’s, but she doesn’t really care. Anything to keep her distracted.

“Hm, yeah?” Alicia says, absorbing herself once more in the life of her patient. “Looks like a cardiac contusion...which is bad, yes?”

“Bad is putting it mildly,” Connie replies, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. The Clinical Lead has changed since her trauma theatre arrived, and Alicia’s heard more than once that it’s an echo of the old Darwin Connie. “I’ve called Darwin, and nobody is free for another hour…”

Alicia takes a deep breath. This is her decision, of course, but it isn’t really. “Um, well, would you mind taking him in? If Darwin are okay with that?”

“Oh they’ll be fine,” Connie replies instantly, waving a hand to disregard any interest in Darwin. “But give them a call, of course, procedure. Would you like to assist?”

“Er, there’s Doctor Masum in resus, so I probably shouldn’t,” Alicia explains.

Connie’s eyes narrow, and she assesses the workforce in the department, and the areas of concern for patient build up.

“Doctor Keogh,” she calls across the workstation, waiting until Dylan moves closer to continue speaking. “I’m taking Doctor Munroe into theatre, _very_ important case.”

“Of course you are,” Dylan mutters under his breath. If Alicia was more interested, she’d say there are issues here. Though she’s not that interested, not at the minute.

“There’s currently Doctor Masum in there, currently without a patient. If he happens to get a patient before we’re out of theatre, could you keep an eye on him?” It’s framed as a request but, really, there’s no room for debate or discussion in Connie’s tone.

“And if there’s a sudden onslaught of patients in cubicles, Connie? What do I do then?”

“If patients are about to breach, give us a call and I’ll ensure that Doctor Munroe is able to return,” Connie’s smooth tone again leaves no room for discussion. “Right, that’s it then. Doctor Munroe, if you’d like to prep for surgery, I’ll get consent from the patient.”

“And I’ll just ring Darwin,” Alicia reminds Connie.

“Yes, yes,” is Connie’s rushed reaction. “Oh, and see if Doctor Kinsella is able to stay another hour, would you?”

Taking a deep breath, Alicia looks around to see if there’s a chance that Connie could have been speaking to anyone but her. For once, the air around her is completely devoid of other doctors, which makes a startling change to normal.

“Here goes,” Alicia mutters to herself, before moving around the workstation. “Bea,” she calls, putting as much ‘chirp’ into her voice as possible.

“Oh, hey,” Bea replies, more cautiously than normal. “Everything alright?”

“Fine, fine,” Alicia says. “Mrs B just wants to know if you’re able to stay an hour later than you were meant to? We’re going into theatre, so I think she’s just worried they might be a bit thin for that hour.” She’s babbling in a way that she hasn’t done since her very first rotation, back when she was nervous even picking up the phone to haematology, let alone speaking to a patient.

“Um, yeah that’s fine,” Bea replies, shrugging slightly. “Dad’s out anyway so I might as well. Could you let her know for me?”

“No worries!” Alicia replies, cursing herself inside for how high her voice goes.

Bea notices the strange, high-pitched thing that Alicia’s voice has become and casts the registrar a curious glance. “Is everything okay, Alicia?”

“Fine,” Alicia replies, trying to sound as calm as possible. “Just excited to see Mrs B in action up close. See you later.”

She walks off as fast as possible from Bea, taking three successive deep breaths in an attempt to calm down before she spends a prolonged period of time in an enclosed space with the most attentive Clinical Lead she’s worked with.

…

“Focus, Alicia,” she whispers to herself as she grips the sides of her steering wheel tightly, trying to give herself the courage to get out of the car. “You can do this. Just don’t babble.”

A sudden burst of determination sweeps over her, and Alicia half-jumps out of the car, slamming the door behind her. She locks it, or at least she thinks she does, though, at this moment, she doesn’t particularly give a damn about the security of her car. Unless, of course, Bea completely and utterly rejects her, in which case she wants to make as speedy a getaway as possible. However, forcing herself to think positively, Alicia focuses on what could happen if Bea says _yes_ as she takes one step after another on her way up the seemingly endless driveway.

With one, two, three hard raps at the door to prevent her from losing her nerve, Alicia takes a step backwards, off the raised entry into the Kinsella household, in order to prevent her from being quite face-to-face with Bea if she answers the door. _If_ she answers the door.

When she answers the door, Alicia corrects herself mentally.

Less than a minute later, there’s the sound of a key fumbling in the lock, a muttered curse as something falls to the floor with a thud before, finally, the door opens and Alicia sees Bea in all her glory.

Except, it isn’t that glorious. Her plaid shirt is misbuttoned, revealing more skin than she probably intended, her hair is folded back under a towel bundled on the top of her head, and she has a bright pink mask covering her face.

But, to Alicia, she looks amazing. Which is probably the strongest sign of all that what she’s been feeling hasn’t just been errant, wayward thoughts, but something real.

“Oh. Alicia, hi,” Bea says, and it’s clear that she’s more than a little stunned to see her...whatever they are, on her doorstep. “Um, is everything okay?”

“Fine,” she blurts out again, like earlier, before taking a breath. “Look. I don’t want to come in, I just have something I want to say really quickly, if you’ve got a minute or two? It’s probably stupid, but I just...I want to get it off my chest.”

“Go for it,” Bea says, a slightly bemused expression on her face. “But you can come in, if you want.”

“I’d rather not, thanks,” Alicia declines, neglecting to mention that the reason is that it’s easier to run away from a doorstep than through a living room and a locked front door. “Right, so...it’d be easier if I can just say it all without you interrupting, then you can give me your opinion at the end. Like we used to do with that shit TV show, remember?”

“I do,” Bea agrees. “Okay, lips are sealed.”

“So, I’ve done a lot of soul searching over the last few days and, this might sound ridiculously sudden to you, but it really isn’t to me: I think I’m bisexual,” Alicia begins, her eyes swiftly scanning Bea’s face for a reaction. So far, none: she can’t tell if that’s good or not. “It’s been something in the back of my mind for a long time now, but I just never registered it, or wanted to acknowledge it. Either way, I didn’t admit it to myself until a couple of days ago. But the trigger point was a bit after you moved in.”

Taking another deep breath, and a short pause, Alicia breaks eye contact and looks at the ground for motivation. “I know you don’t believe what...what I said, or what I did, on the holiday and with good reason. I wasn’t exactly making a lot of sense to me, and definitely not to anyone else. But...I like you Bea. Like, more than just as a friend. And I get if that makes it awkward for you, especially as you’re you and not like me and stuff,” she laughs, “what am I even saying? Oh yeah, basically: if you want me to leave it here, I will, and I won’t hold that against you. We can just go back to being work friends. But I just wanted to let you know, and to apologise properly for what happened in Maga. I was a terrible friend, and I’m sorry.”

It’s only then that she can feel the tears streaming down her face, and she can’t do anything to stop them. Blinking profusely only seems to make them fall faster, as does the prolonged period of silence that falls between the two women. She’s on the verge of leaving - until suddenly, she’s not.

“Alicia,” Bea breathes her name gently and, looking up, Alicia’s startled to see her friend - or whatever they are - standing so close to her. “I was mad at myself. It wasn’t my place to tell you how you felt, or what you are. I’m sorry.”

Alicia snorts. “I’m here to apologise to you, Bea, not the other way around!”

Suddenly, though it feels like it was always inevitable, Bea closes the gap between their lips. Unlike their first kiss, this one is soft and gentle, barely a brush of their lips against the other’s. It’s sweet and gentle and everything that a first - or a second - kiss should be.

“How about we both agree to stop apologising and start to think about what we want for tea?” Bea suggests, a smirk on her lips.

“But...but...you said!” Alicia’s confused, and she’s sure that that’s evident on her features.

“We both said a lot of bullshit on that shitty, expensive holiday, Alicia,” Bea counters. “I like you. I wouldn’t have ever said anything if we were still living together, obviously. But I’m glad that you like me too.”

“So what now?” Alicia asks. “I’ve never done this before. Obviously.”

This time, Bea laughs. “Babe, it’s exactly like dating a man, routines wise. Or so I’m told,” she replies. “The only difference is that the actual relationship is _so_ much better.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

…

_Three months later:_

It’s a Saturday night in the newly christened Munroe-Kinsella household, and they’re watching the usual trash on television. Somehow, in the last three weeks, they’ve both managed to get the Saturday graveyard shift off; a concession from Mrs B for poor working hours during the week, potentially. Not that either of them are complaining.

The forms are filed at work to confirm that Bea now lives at Alicia’s once again; however, this time, the Facebook status is accompanied by a soppy comment and a picture of Alicia kissing Bea’s temple.

Everyone who should know knew before that, of course. Rash and Ethan and most of the other doctors in the E.D knew through a public announcement at the end of Connie’s longwinded meeting the other week - though Dylan purported to have no knowledge whatsoever of why such an announcement was necessary - and Alicia had called her parents long before. But it was nice to get it into the wider world, to help the unconscious niggle in Alicia’s mind disappear, and for her to feel validated once more.

They argue over what to watch on TV, and they take it in turns to concede as to whom gets to choose what they’re having for tea. Alicia still doesn’t know some of Bea’s deepest secrets, and there’s no way on this earth that Bea could ever understand the complexity of Alicia’s various hobbies and obsessions in her childhood.

But they have months and years to get to know this about each other. No detail is too small to be overlooked and, to be honest, neither of them can wait to know everything there is to know about the other.

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Artwork: Overlooked](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15933878) by [jazzywbb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzywbb/pseuds/jazzywbb)




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